


Punk and PTA

by MiscellaneousShenanigans



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, M/M, Parents! Ereri, Punk Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 14:58:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4024168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiscellaneousShenanigans/pseuds/MiscellaneousShenanigans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How do you balance making sure your child gets to soccer practice on time, running PTA bake sales and maintain modern punk fashion?  Go balls to the wall, that's how.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Punk and PTA

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AliceMowse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceMowse/gifts).



> Yoo so this is a one-shot gift to racy-riren.tumblr.com. Eren and Levi are Mikasa's punk parent's just trying to survive suburbia looking like Hot Topic poster children. Enjoy! Find me om tumblr: sm-dc.tumblr.com

* * *

 

“Did you get the brownies decorated last night? Mikasa’s bake sale is this afternoon, and those soccer bitches will have my ass if I forget them,” I asked in an irritable tone. “Fuck me sideways if I don’t leave in the next 15 minutes,” I grumbled, wiping down the counter.

“Is that an offer?” Eren asked, turning to waggle his eyebrows at me. I quickly rolled up the dish towel I was holding, flicking it at his rear, which he not only didn’t bother dodging, but leaned in to it. I flipped him the bird, smirking at his small sound of ‘ah!’ at the sting. “Yeah, I frosted them after they cooled off. Mikasa wanted them to have sprinkles, so we put those green and pink ones. You know, I think they’re shaped like stars or something? Dinosaurs, maybe?” Eren replied, putting dishes away from the dishwasher. “I wrapped them individually, too, Less messy for serving that way,”

Today was the annual bake sale fundraiser for Mikasa's soccer team, and normally I just dropped shit off and left, leaving the work of selling them to the overly pompous women who had way too much time to paint their faces. I hated it, so fucking much. So, so much. But, Mikasa had a game today, so I would stay and bring her some food after school before her game. The bake sale would be a before the game, during, and a bit after. Which meant I would end up spending about three hours with the PTA. 

“You know, I got a call from the principle the other day at work? One of those vapid she-monsters actually reported Mikasa’s outfit as child abuse. The fucking nerve.”

At that, Eren whipped around from his task of washing the dishes, some of his hair partially falling out of its bun.

“What?! Why? Because we gave her some clip-in sparkly hair and sparkly purple lip gloss? She’s in 4th grade and wants to be cool!” I appreciated that Eren sounded perfectly scandalized. I shrugged, folding the towel and setting it next to the sink. "Or was it the denim vest with spray paint on it?"

“Fuck if I know. All I know is that I had to go down there the other day to talk to him, and I’m really certain he almost shat himself when I got there,”

Eren snickered, tucking some stray hairs behind his ear. 

“Was that the same day you decided to experiment with eyeliner, again? I’m sure he was just envious of how hot you were.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Eren, please. If anybody is to be envied, it’s obviously you. I’m old and gross,” I groused, walking over to the fridge to rummage for the Tupperware full of brownies. I jumped when I felt a pinch on my ass, and I leaned back around the fridge door to glare sharply at Eren.

“Why thank you, dear husband, however, you’re not gross,” Eren quipped, putting away one last dish and going to dry his hands on a dry dish towel. I quirked an eyebrow, shutting the fridge and placing the container on the counter.

“Hoh? So you don’t deny that I’m old? That hurts, Eren,” I put my right hand over my heart, jutting my pierced lower lip out just slightly. “Truly, I’m crushed.”

Eren just arched a brow, trying his hardest not to look amused but failing miserably. He ‘tsk’d’ and leaned back against the counter opposite of me.

“Aww, did I hurt your old man feels? I’m sorry, would you like to punish me for it?” He waggled his eyebrows, his eyebrow ring glinting in the sunlight filtering in through the window. At that, I wrinkled my nose.

“No, you ass. I have something important to do. Plus, you just got a piercing two days ago down there. Give it a chance to heal before you try and bone me.” At that, I brushed past him, grabbing the container of brownies as I walked towards the front door to put on my [boots](http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=162316565).

I bent down to lace them up, and heard a whistle of appreciation. I half smiled, but didn’t look up.

“ _No_ , Eren! I’m going to be late as it is, and I hate being late…” I groused, and I heard him snicker.

“Forgive me for thinking your ass looks fantastic in those jeans, then. You know I like the ripped up black ones.”

I gave him a small smile, finishing up my shoes and reaching for my vest on the coat rack by the door. Eren leaned against the doorway of the kitchen, and I pretended not to notice him giving me once-overs.  

"You're welcome to come along if you want," I offered, and he just shrugged. 

"I'll be there later. I have to run a few errands, but I'll be there for Mikasa's soccer game. Besides, I really don't like how those women look at me like I'm just a piece of meat." Eren stated with mild disgust, wrinkling his nose as he removed his apron. I snorted in response, putting my container in a reusable bag along with my sunglasses. I beckoned Eren over with my hand, and he nearly tripped over himself to oblige. 

I huffed out a laugh, giving him a kiss before I opened the front door. "Fucking dork, calm down. Don't die for a kiss," I teased, and his face tinged slightly pink. 

"Piss off, old man. Go face the forces of evil, or whatever," he whined, though he smiled. I rolled my eyes again, stepping out of the front door. 

"Most people call it the PTA, Eren. Something I am a part of, much to the chagrin of the other members. I'm taking the car, so you can take the bike," I called over my shoulder. He smiled and waved me off, and I closed the door behind me, making my way to my car. It wasn't anything fancy, just a Honda Accord. I made sure to get a car highly rated for safety, much to Eren's amusement. We had another car in the garage, and old Camaro, but that was not appropriate for transporting around a child. 

Placing the brownies in the passenger seat, I started the car and backed out of the driveway, waving to our neighbor as I passed him trimming his hedges. He hesitantly waved back; he was an older man who mostly kept to himself. Hannes was his name, and he would sometimes babysit for us.

I drove off down the road, tapping the steering wheel to the beat of a song on the radio. I knew Mikasa would be really happy if I got her McDonalds for dinner, which I thought was the absolute worst thing in existence, but Eren had spoiled her on it. I think right now they had My Little Pony toys or something, and she was very keen on collecting them all so she could make them play with her dinosaurs and dragons. I drove through and got her food and then made my way to her school.

It was a beautiful spring day, sunny and warm. Perfect for soccer and a bake sale.  Pulling in to the parking lot, I instantly saw the table set up for the bake sale. It had balloons on it, a cheap vinyl table cloth, and fake smiling faces behind it. I sighed, briefly resting my forehead on my steering wheel, praying to whatever sacred deity of the universe for patience. I would not smile like they were, but I had promised Eren last night that I would try not to get in a fight.

I turned off the car and grabbed my bag of brownies and little bag of food for Mikasa, as well as her bag of soccer things from the backseat, making my way over to the table. I was instantly noticed, as I was dressed head to toe in black, and had purposefully worn a sleeveless shirt and vest. It made them really uneasy that I had tattoo sleeves, and I felt sick satisfaction encroaching on their pristine bubbles of what they felt was right in the world. 

"Afternoon, ladies," I deadpanned, gently setting down my bag of brownies on the table in front of one of the ladies. "Beautiful day, isn't it?" 

I was going to do my best to behave. I really was. I went about setting Mikasa's food on a chair behind the table, then set about taking out my brownies. 

"Ah, Mr. Ackerman, so nice to see you again!" 

This lady, by far, was my least favorite. She was the head of the PTA. Fucking Helen Dawk. She was going to live forever with the amount of preservatives and chemicals she injected in to her stupid Barbie face, and I hoped and prayed she would go bald from how often she bleached her hair. She had it out for me from day one, when we first started Mikasa at this school in kindergarten. 

We lived in an upper-middle class neighborhood, which was awesome for the opportunities for our daughter, but not so awesome for the shitty attitudes of the airheads that lived around us. At the meet-and-greet for kindergarten, Helen and her husband, a pissy excuse for a man named Nile, were both giving Eren and me shifty side-eyes as we sat through a brief orientation. 

After the orientation, Eren and I were talking with a few of the other parents as their kids and Mikasa seemed to get along well, and the Dawk's had rather rudely butted in, insulting Eren and I in every passive aggressive way possible. I don't think Eren noticed or cared, but I wasn't about to stand around and let them talk shit about my family.

It was only about an hour in to the meeting when I went to get more coffee or something, and as I was pouring it fucking Helen sidled up to me, sneering. She had made some offhand comment about my outfit, and remarked on how Mikasa had no future with 'degenerate parents, the poor dear,' and I lost my shit. 

I had smacked the cookie she held right out of her hand, much to her and the rest of the room's surprise. I vaguely noticed Eren stifling a laugh as I got in her face with a 'Fucking fight me, Helen!'

Needless to say, I wasn't allowed to visit the school for about a month after that, but nothing was stopping me from joining the PTA in an effort to be more involved with Mikasa. Eren had weird work hours and wasn't able to commit, but I set my own hours and could manage it. 

So, here we were, a few years later, performing the same song and dance of forced pleasantries. The bell rang for school to be out, which meant Mikasa would be coming to find me soon. I had told her this morning that I would be here after school, and not to take the bus home. 

"It's always a pleasure to gaze at your mug, Helen." I flatly replied, arranging my brownies on a plate. Her tinny laugh was so horribly forced, but she didn't bite back a reply as a few kids had come over to see what was on the table, quarters present in their grubby hands. 

A few of the other ladies at the table I recognized, and they were fairly pleasant. Eren got along with them better than I did, as he was the one who usually arranged play dates and shit.

"Papa, can I have a brownie?" I heard a small voice say from behind me, and I turned to see Mikasa, who I instantly noticed had stickers on her face and two different colored socks peeking out over her sneakers. I sighed, bending down to her level to pick the stickers off. 

"No, you need actual food first. Not that you could call what I brought you real food, but you know..." I grumbled, and she stood there while I peeled off the shimmery stickers. "Where did these stickers come from? Don't let other kids touch your face, they're filthy."

She just stared evenly at me with her dark doe eyes. "Sasha had some that she got from going to the dentist, and she knows I like dinosaurs, so she let me have some. We match." 

I was always amused at how deadpan Mikasa's speech pattern was, so much like my own. The only traits she had seemed to pick up from Eren were his laugh and weird taste in food. We had decided to have a surrogate instead of adopting, and I guess my genes were stronger and won out as she looked exactly like me.

Peeling off the last sticker, I crumpled them up and tossed them in a trash can by the table, standing back up. Mikasa had noticed the McDonald's sitting on the chair behind me, and her eyes got impossibly wide. 

"Did you bring that for me?" She asked, pointing to it. I nodded, and she smiled, doing her best not to rip in to it too quickly. I watched fondly as she scooted in to the chair and rummaged around her bag for her toy. It was really cute, and I slid my phone out from my back pocket to take a picture before she noticed. The phone made a shutter noise, and she looked up at me through her bangs, pouting. 

"Papa, don't take my picture." She grumped around a french fry in her mouth, and I flicked her nose. 

"Excuse you, I don't think you're my boss. And don't dangle food out your face, that's gross," I muttered, posting the photo to Facebook. "Besides, you know your grandma's and grandpa like getting pictures of you."

"Will they come to my game today?" I shook my head, pocketing my phone.

"No, but you'll see them this weekend." She nodded and went back to her food, and I turned back to the table of baked goods. Many of the kids that came up to buy things wanted to buy from me, and many of them commented on my tattoos, saying how cool they were, or how pretty. I never thought I would be here at this point in my life, working a bake sale for my kid, with other kids in awe of me, but here I was. 

Helen the Horrible tried to butt in every time a child spoke to me, and it was endlessly amusing when the kids made faces at her for being obnoxious. We carried on this way for about fifteen minutes, and I turned back to see how Mikasa was doing. She was done with her food, and had taken out some homework and was quietly working on it. I nudged her with my foot and she looked up.

"You'd better go get changed. I think your team will be warming up soon," I stated, looking out at the field where a few other girls and their parents were setting up lawn chairs. Mikasa's coach was a really nice redhead named Petra, and Mikasa really liked her. I had a suspicion that Mikasa liked her so much because Petra brought the girls cookies, but whatever. 

"Ok," she said, carefully putting her school work back in her backpack, then grabbing her soccer bag and heading back in to the school to change. I watched her until I was sure she was safely inside before turning back to the table, grabbing a bottle of water available for the volunteers. I downed half of it and glanced to the side to see a few of the soccer moms watching me drink it. Ugh. Replacing the cap, I glared at them and they just giggled, fucking grown ass women giggled, and skittered off towards the field, lawn chairs folded and strapped to their backs. 

"Quite the spectacle, Mr. Ackerman." A syrupy sweet voice pierced my ears, and I grimaced. 

"Levi." I corrected flatly, really doing my best to ignore her. It had gotten rather busy, so avoiding conversation with fucking Helen was easy. But now there was a lull as people were staking out places for the game and the children not playing games had already left on buses, though a few lingered in the front of the school waiting for their parents. 

Another one of the ladies tapped me on the arm, and instantly recoiled as I turned to face her. I knew my face was kind of intimidating, but it wasn't my fault. 

"What?"

"Err, ah, Levi, could you pass me some of those plates next to you? We're out on this end of the table..." 

"Yeah." I replied, diving my pile of plates in half and handing them to her, which she quickly took as if she was burned. Whatever, I wasn’t going to bite. I was pretty sure she was Armin's mom, one of Mikasa's friends. 

Speaking of which, Mikasa came back out of the school in her soccer things, bag slung over one shoulder which had her other clothes in it. She was followed by her friend Armin, who I swear to god was the most intelligent kid I'd ever met. We'd had him over a couple times, and he'd joined in when Eren and I were talking about things that no fourth grader should even know. But I supposed with the internet, kids could learn anything. He sort of lagged behind her, a book in his hand. 

"I'm going to go practice, now. Is dad going to be here?" She asked, bending down to tie her cleat. 

"Yes, he had to go to the store or something first." 

She nodded, checking over her gear before picking up her soccer ball and running off to the field. Armin stood there awkwardly for a minute, and I just stared at him, eyebrow quirked up. 

"Uhh, hi Mr. Acker-... Levi, sir. I'm gonna go sit and watch Mikasa...?" It was phrased like a question, and he looked between me and his mom who I assumed was behind me. 

"It's fine kid, jeez. Don't get your undies in a bunch."

I heard a few startled gasps behind me, and Armin smiled and ran after Mikasa. 

"Mr. Ackerman, surely you should watch your language in front of children!"

Of course, fucking Helen. Rounding on her, I sneered. "Fine, I'll watch my fuckin' language. Damn,"

"Levi!" Mrs. Arlert chided. 

"Tch, I meant 'dang,'" I made quotations with my fingers, and just received sour looks in response. They were about to retort but the sound of a motorcycle cut them off. Perfect timing. I looked over to watch Eren park and remove his helmet, strapping it down after dismounting. 

I watched him scan the area briefly before he caught my eye, and he smiled as he nearly skipped over to us. He had changed his [clothes](http://www.polyvore.com/punk_dad_2/set?id=162318714) from what he was wearing at home, and I shamelessly checked him out as he walked over. I knew it made the other ladies feel awkward, but they were all completely goo-goo for Eren. I couldn't blame them, honestly. He looked like some punk fantasy wet dream with his piercings, tattoos and hair in a loose bun. 

"Hi, sweetie. Did you miss me?" He greeted, leaning over to land a quick kiss on my cheek. I just huffed, pushing down my urge to smile. 

"Of course not. I just saw you an hour ago. Mikasa's on the field if you want to go down there," I offered, gesturing vaguely behind me. He nodded, removing the backpack he was carrying to rummage through it for a second, pulling out a bottle of iced tea. 

"Here, I thought you might prefer this over water," he held it out to me, and I took it gratefully. I knew it was just plain tea, but Eren made really, really good iced tea. 

"This always tastes better when you make it," I said to myself, but he still heard me, smiling widely at my praise. 

"Thanks! I know you like it bitter and dark, like your attitude." At that, I did smile.

"You better watch your attitude," I stated, taking a sip of tea. "Or else you'll have to answer for it, later."

A collective gasp of the other ladies pulled us out of our bubble of banter. Eren zipped his backpack, slinging it back over his shoulder. He turned to face the other people at the table, giving them a salute.

"Good afternoon, ladies! You're all looking refreshing today," I snorted, but they were all instantly taken in by Eren’s faux charm. Except for fucking Helen, who wrinkled her nose at him. Eren made special exception to nod directly at her, his smile wide, but it didn't reach his eyes. He held the same disdain for her as I did, but he was much better at hiding it. I watched him head towards the field, deciding I may as well join him soon.

"My, my, you are so lucky, Levi. Eren's quite a catch." 

I looked over to the woman who spoke, Mrs. Hoover, I believe, who was also watching Eren walk off, fanning herself. A few ladies nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, I'm pretty lucky." I mumbled, noticing that there was only one brownie left on the plate I had set them on, whereas a few of the other treats were still plentiful. I smirked, feeling immense satisfaction that my brownies outsold the other things, especially the carrot cake cupcakes fucking Helen tried to pass off to kids. No kid was going to pick that. I grabbed the last brownie, since I promised Mikasa she could have it. 

I gathered my bag and Mikasa's bag and backpack, slinging them over one of my shoulders, digging my sunglasses out of my bag. 

"I'll excuse myself now. Gotta watch my kid do her thing. You know, being the supportive parent or something." I gave a two finger salute and walked in the direction of Eren, but not before I overheard the immediate gossip behind me.

"Did you see that his nails were painted bright orange? What on earth...!" That's all I heard and I held back from rolling my eyes. Mikasa had gotten some nail polish from my mother for her birthday, and had been itching to try it out for weeks. She went between me and Eren, knowing one of us would eventually give in. It had been me, like it usually was. For as much of a hard ass as I was, Mikasa seemed to absorb that tenfold. 

It was amusing, though, to explain to my office mates why my nails were neon orange. They knew I had some facial piercings, but I dressed completely different at work from my normal style, so they probably thought I was having a mid-life crisis. I took my piercings out at work, but you could still see where jewelry would go.

I finally got to where Eren was sitting on the grass on a blanket, and I nudged him in the ribs with the toe of my boot. He whined, tilting his head back to look up at me, supporting his weight on his hands.

"Finished playing Suzy Homemaker?" he asked, scooting over to make room for me to sit. I plopped my things next to the blanket, sitting down and crossing my legs. 

"You know it's always a treat to see my favorite people. The delight goes both ways, I can assure you." 

Our sarcasm was nearly lethal. A few of the mothers sitting around us gave us wary looks, but most of them were on good terms with us, even friendly. A whistle blew, and all the kids lined up where they were supposed to, though a few of them ran to their parents to drop off their soccer balls, Mikasa included.

"Hey, dad," she panted, hair sticking to her face. Eren smiled and sat up on his knees, reaching over to brush Mikasa's hair from her sticky forehead. 

"Where's the elastic I gave you this morning?" he asked, and she looked off to the side, kicking at the dirt. Both Eren and I raised our eyebrows; how odd for her not to have a response ready. "Mikasa, if you lost it, it's fine. It was like, five cents." Eren soothed and reached over me to get the bag that had her stuff in it, rummaging around and not finding what he was looking for. "Well, whatever, I brought more. And a water bottle that someone left at home when they left earlier,"

I gave Eren a sour look at that dig, but turned back to Mikasa when she spoke up.

“I didn’t lose it, dad… I gave it to a friend. I don’t like wearing them, they hurt my head…”

“Mikasa, are you pouting?” I asked, mildly amused. This was rare.

“No!” she replied quickly, and Eren smiled, reaching out to run his fingers through her hair, pulling it up despite her protests.

“Well how about this: this weekend we can get your hair cut as short as you want, that way you don’t have to wear these anymore.” This was said around an elastic in his mouth as he used his hands as a makeshift comb. Her eyes lit up at the suggestion.

“As short as I want?” she asked excitedly. Eren nodded, but she looked at me for confirmation.

“You can have a mohawk if you want, I don’t give a fu-“

“Levi!” Eren cut in.

  “…fudge.”

We both had been making an effort to watch our language more around Mikasa, since she was more social now with more friends over. I didn’t care what she absorbed, but I really didn’t want to get in a fight with some other kid’s parent and risk alienating Mikasa from having friend’s over.

Another whistle blew, and Eren finished putting Mikasa’s hair up in a high ponytail. She thanked Eren and ran off to her team and the game started. Eren sat back down, leaning back against his hands. 

"You really think she'll go for a mohawk?" he asked as we both watched the cluster of kids running around after a soccer ball. I shrugged, glancing out the side of my sunglasses at him. 

"Who knows? Either way, if she's happy with it, that's all I really care..." I trailed off as Mikasa had gotten control of the ball and Eren sat straight up, keenly watching her kick it down the field.

"Go, Mikasa! Get it in the net!" I winced because his voice was really loud right in my ear. We both watched intently as she got closer and closer to the net, and Eren got progressively more and more obnoxious. I could tell his excitement was not necessarily appreciated by the other parents, who were also cheering but not nearly with as much gusto. 

"YES! GOAL! GOOOOOAL!" I turned just in time to see Mikasa kick the ball around the goal tender and score for her team, and shoved at Eren for being so loud. He was clapping and cheering, and Mikasa did her best to not look at us. 

Once Eren was calm and seated, I leaned my head over to rest on his shoulder. He jumped slightly, not expecting it, but he turned to smile down at me anyways, sliding his arm around my shoulders.

"Since when did we get so domesticated?" I asked. "Making brownies for a PTA bake sale, watching our kid play soccer..." Eren laughed and shrugged, placing a kiss on top of my head. 

"Probably sometime after going for fast car rides on the highway, binge drinking on weekends and staying up too late watching B movies and deciding that maybe we should get our shit together and date.

"Wow, Eren, that makes it sound so romantic," I deadpanned, and he laughed softly.

"Yeah, well, me sneaking in to a bar to watch your band play while I was still in high school was super romantic. At least I thought so."

"Yeah, now you're pushing 30 and I'm pushing 40."

Eren didn't respond as he was watching the game, but I know he heard me. I reached my hand up to hold Eren's, and he squeezed it back in acknowledgement. 

We were sappy and gross and looked like we could kick your ass, but we'd made a nice little life for ourselves, and even adopted a kid. Sure I sometimes had a tussle with members of the PTA, and yeah maybe taking a bunch of fourth grader's to a tattoo parlor wasn't the best idea, but between Eren and myself, we did what we could to provide love and happiness to our daughter. 

I think we were pretty good at it. 

 


End file.
